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2011-04-18 - BAHRAM Ascending
Space. The final frontier. High in Earth's orbit, floating amidst the debris of obliterated colonies and shrapnel from the countless battles fought over the planet is a distinctive shape. Most would be able to identify it as a plane of some kind- if a very oddly figured plane. Only a handful could successfully name it. Two, forward-swept wings pull out from the rear of the aircraft, near its impressive thruster banks. The machine is a strange mesh of angular and rounded. Its armor appears segmented, but so smoothly that one could imagine the lines in its airframe to be less joints and more a pattern, painted in black on the vehicle's distinctive white and blue colorscheme. After a moment, the vessel appears to lurch. Its frame comes apart, and then reconfigures smoothly into a humanoid form, electromagnetic energies arcing between components of the airframe before locking soundlessly into place. Again, it shifts, changing back and forth, and to something in between. Its transformations begin slowly, but become more and more rapid as the man inside its concealed cockpit gradually increases the rate of the machine's configuration. For, tonight, the Variable Falken is out on a test run. The first practical excursion since its inauguration- and its pilot is none other than the legend himself-- Cipher. Galm 01 of the Republic of Ustio's 6th Air Division, 66th Air Force Unit. Today is just another day in the life of the Demon Lord. "Transformation capabilities are online and functioning within expected parameters," he notes into his radio. On the other end, halfway across the planet in a sheltered hangar within a small colony in orbit around the planet, technicians from Grunder Industries judiciously records their test pilot's statement and indicate for him to begin the next phase of operations. Cipher sighs. He's a stockholder, does he /really/ need to be up here? The answer: Yes, since this IS his personal unit, and it's only proper for him to take it out for a spin. The machine shifts again to a humanoid form. Its thrusters fire, pushing it into a nearby debris field, "Now beginning Astromaneuverability Tests..." This would be a long day. EARLIER EARTH CRADLE In South Africa, over the Earth Cradle, a gigantic old earthen battleship had been parked with a constant buzz of drones and other units flying between, gigantic crates being dragged up from its holds. It seems they are preparing for something big, attaining supplies from the Divine Crusader headquarters. Standing at the top of this ship is a sole manned Orbital Frame, its red shade and glow standing out from the dark black hull of the ship - the red bird-like insignia of BAHRAM being the only thing that stands out on this gigantic battleship. NOW SPACE Space. A conduit between Mars and Earth at this moment in time. At it would appear that the position which Cipher is taking up for his little training session is the exact route that the massive BAHRAM battleship is planning to take. The thing is rocketing out of atmosphere, gravity trying to hold it down, with the Amenthes standing at its nose, enhancing the sensors of the Jhamil class ship. It was an old ship, and there was a lot of things wrong with it. That is why it got used by operations in which Ascian took charge - if it was lost, nobody would care too much. Within the cockpit of the Amenthes, Ascian is playing with some of the instruments. After loading up at the Earth Cradle, he'd got the Amenthes to be re-equiped with a LEV armor, to hide its Metatron signature. He'd noticed that enemies had an easy time tracking him if that energy was being released too readily. And this being a transport, he didn't want any enemies getting lucky at finding it due to his deeds. So, a red marked Phantama II - for all intents and purposes - remains standing at the nose of that battleship. And that battleship suddenly finds itself slowing down, having escaped gravity, and Duat - the Amenthes' Artificial Intelligence - having warned that there is a single ship in the vicinity. <"Unknown ship."> Ascian tries to start an audio-only conversation with the pilot of what looked like some kind of Valkyrie model, <"Please remove yourself from the vicinity, so we may continue our travels without any problems. I repeat, please remove yourself from the vicinity." Normally, this didn't work. Really, his luck told him that, any time he demanded someone to just be nice, and leave the area, they would shoot at him. /Always/. Lazy rolls and skillful, if overly careful maneuvers guide the Falken's delcate frame through the debris field. Inside the COFFIN, Cipher puts his all into learning how to move this damn humanoid frame. To his credit, he's doing a fairly amazing job for a first try- Perhaps it's because the COFFIN's neural link system makes maneuvering in a humanoid form easier than it should be? Perhaps. Or perhaps he only LOOKS like he's doing a good job- there is nothing to shoot at him yet, after all. "Maneuverability looks pretty steady," he says after a while, "There's some lag in the leg actuators, but it's nothing that can't be compensated for." He compels the machine to shift slightly. Its arms knock a nearby piece of shrapnel out of the way as it continues on through. "Manipulators are doing well. Moving on to live fire tests-" The Coffin's interior turns from clinical white to flashing red. Chills run down his spine as the machine's ECM systems come online. "Talk to me, kids," Cipher brings up the radar displays- "What the hell is going on? Do we have hostiles?" Suddenly, the debris field parts, revealing-- a battleship!? Under most circumstances, the sudden arrival of a warship in Earth Orbit means that there's probably some kind of invasion about to start somewhere. But then, Cipher recieves a transmission. He frowns, but then sighs- mostly in relief. No blood today. <"This is VADF-01, Galm-01, roger that, vessel. We did not recieve your itinerary, and were not expecting mass transit through this sector. Now moving to secondary staging area."> The Valkyrie's thrusters fire once more, pushing it steadily out of the debris field. "Grunder-31, I'm moving on to the next zone for fire testing. Give me some targets." Nobody said jackassery was a requirement for being an ace airjockey. They were retreating. My god, this was... different. Ascian looks at the vid-window that's showing, of the vessel retreating. He hears the communication that was given as reply and... smiles. He raises his hand up to his chest. "Good..." He lets out a relieved sigh when suddenly. FWHOOOOOM! One of the gigantic mounted cannons on the battleship fires a laser that cuts through space, vaporizing a good bit of the debris and rushing straight for the Valkyrie! "What the!?" Ascian's 'LEV' turns about, towards the cannon, his eyes wide open, his heart nearly stopped. Why. Why had they fired!? A private communication comes into his vessel. "Lieutenant Luddite. That vessel may carry readings on our heading. Take them out, that is an order!" The voice on the other side sounded like a rough male voice. He couldn't place it. That didn't sound like the captain. Who else was on board that ship? The young man hangs his head a bit and sighs. "Damnit." He mutters, and releases the magnetic boots of the LEV-disguised Orbital Frame. The blue thrusters come online, and begin sending him forwards. A Phantoma II against a fast Valkyrie. Who-ever is inside of that machine must be laughing their asses off, if they wouldn't just flee. He re-opens a comm-channel. <"I'm... sorry. It seems you have to die, having seen us."> He offers, then closes the communication link again and sets the thrusters to max, trying to overtake the enemy 'Valkyrie'? The COFFIN suddenly goes white hot. Cipher roars as the feedback from the neural link punches him right in the gut. His shoulders burn. But it's a testament to the Valkyrie's construction that it had taken a hit like that, and hasn't yet fallen apart. That's Belkan manufacturing for you. "What the hell-" That transmission-- His life is at risk, /AGAIN!?/ "Tch," he grunts, "This is just like my life." The Battroid's thrusters ignite. Its body shifts suddenly, transforming back into a form the pilot is more... Comfortable with. It turns, and begins to... Retreat? Thrusters burn with thermonuclear force as it pushes itself through the debris field, moving with technique that no mere pilot could possibly manage. Who is this guy, anyway? "Pilot, call off your damn attack. This is a test flight, but I am carrying live ammunition. Call off your attack! This is a warning!" A warning, accompanied by a swarm of missiles. Mysteriously, though the plane is retreating, its projectiles still manage to track as they should, fired from the belly of the plane before turning in mid-flight to strike at the incoming OF. On the other side of the planet, a gaggle of Grunder technicians are suddenly freaking the hell out, but one particular young man, with little bottlecap glasses types diligently at his console. On-screen: 'OS-HELLHOUND, UPDATE: 45% COMPLETE.' <"No can do. I've been ordered to destroy your vessel."> Ascian replies without a single bit of emotion in his voice. It wasn't that he didn't feel sorry, but rather, he didn't want to show weakness before this person. He was a lieutenant now, a soldier, but he still had to follow orders. If he was told to jump... he'd jump. Yet, something still set him apart from most other Divine Crusaders. No matter how much he tried to surpress it, he had a certain kindness to him - after all, he /had/ said sorry before engaging this person. In fact, he hadn't even fired whilst the Battroid had been caught within that beam of light. The thrusters conitnue to burn, little bursts of air guiding him left and right as he being so approach the debris field. But it doesn't seem like Ascian's pilotting skills can be brought out well enough to dodge the random pieces of metal and relic objects. The armor of the LEV gets a beating as he tries to push forth, chasing the Valkyrie unit. "That pilotting... and that unit. Is it some kind of new mobile suit?" After all, it seemed different, that handling. He'd fought Maximillian Jenius before, but this was different. The maneuvers, the unit's transformation abilities. And yes, the pilot had said that this was a test flight. Perhaps he could get some information on this new unit. "Duat, record all data you can get from that unit, if we get out of this alive that is." That last bit was said as he notices the sudden onslaught of missiles coming his way, which somehow were guiding around some of the debris pieces. He quickly activates both of the lower shoulder compartments of the LEV diguise armor, and sends a burst of red laser-vulcan shots right out infront of him, trying to shoot down some of the missiles. But in the end, there is little he can do with his limited thrustering capabilities. He just hopes that some of the shots - wide as they had been - had been enough to catch his opponent. The missile collapse against the white and red armor of the apparent Phantoma II and send it reeling back. Ascian has to do his best not to bite his lips or tongue as the gulf of explosions rattles his entire machine. His eyes are on the armor indicators. Severe pockmarks were present, and a good pilot ought to be able to recognize that some of these dents should have been vital hits. But something about the armor hadn't... quite had the same effect. Was this a new type of Phantoma? Well, it certainly seemed to have new weapon systems! The backpack opens, and a sudden gulf of missile rush out of it whilst the machine itself holds still! But these aren't normal missiles. They seem to be followed by red lines. Cords? No... lasers! Missile-headed lasers? The lasers flow perfectly after the guided weapons, Duat and Ascian working in unison to try to guide them through the debris. That's why he's not currently moving the disguised Amenthes, because it takes that much out of him. A few pieces of metal collide with a missile, sending another wave of explosions through the field, masking a few of the other incoming projectiles. But there's still something strange about it. Laser missiles? Not only would they explode, but cut as well? Today is not Cipher's day. Again, pain shoots through his body as he the homing laser-missiles collide with the Falken's fragile airframe. But he pushes on. The debris field won't last much longer. All he has to do- all he has to do is what he's always been doing, all his life. Survive. He must survive. 'We will survive, Galm 01!' "Alright, kid. I'm done playing." he grits his teeth, pushing the starfighter into a sudden, if bizarre maneuver, "Show me what you've got!" Secondary thrusters fire- afterburners, pushing forwards at incredible speeds. Crimson crosshairs appear in his targeting reticle- one lock, then another and another overlap upon Ascian's machine. And he pulls the trigger. "Grunder 31, send backup immediately," he murmurs coldly, "We have a hostile warship moving through the debris field. Contact A-LAWS patrol units and set an intercept. I'll take care of this one." Calling in for reinforcements isn't his sort of thing- but he wagers that there's a REASON they're trying to shoot him down... Missiles! Always with the missiles. Sure, Ascian had just released a buttload of them from this horrible LEV Armor, but still! The disguised Orbital Frame tries to apply some of its space compression to let its thrusters send it back, and he activates the laser vulcans once more to let the machine catch those missiles and create a big heat signature. But he knew - if he remained within that armor, he was dead! A series of miniexplosions show to nearby sensors, like those on the Falken perhaps, before the missiles even reach the unit. And just before they impact, there is suddenly a spike! Standard cameras suddenly pick up nothing but snow and fuzz, as if a high-level ECM system was just activated. And if there was any kind of OS on the Falken capable of reading Metatron radiation, he'd probably be picking it up during those massive explosions going on that seemed to indicate a critical hit! Then, from the heat of those explosions, the red of the BAHRAM's Phoenix appears. A red glow set heavily around the Orbital Frame, its wings spread out and its both hands set in rifle form, aimed directly at Galm 01. <"I want to know your name."> Ascian suddenly opens an audio-visual link with his opponent to accept. He's sitting there, in the red glowing cockpit - flow of Metatron running through it like a pulse. His eyes, one paler than the other, staring right at the 'Camera' point. There's even a slight glow beneath his eyes, indicating some level of Metatron poisoning. <"My name is Lieutenant Ascian Luddite, of the BAHRAM Space Fleet."> It was rude to ask someone's name without introducing oneself. He didn't look happy. More... appologetic. <"Please dodge this."> He then adds, and the Orbital Frame levels its two rifle arms at his opponent and... suddenly bursts forwards in a shift of speed. High G levels push against Ascian's body, but even as for a Martian, he is well trained enough to deal with that. The comm-link cuts out for a moment. The Amenthes twirls and dartles around, like a jet doing a series of barrel rolls, and begins to unleash a large volley of beamfire at his opponent. The prehensile tails of the Orbital Frame move to four points, each firing lasers at his opponent as well - trying to cut him off if he tried to flee. And during that time, the arms come together as one and begin to form a new weapon of sorts between the two of them. Space before it begins to compress, and the machine suddenly archs up and halts. The twelve bit-wings suddenly release, and expand into twentyfour. A flood of red feather shaped ember-like particles dart from between them as Metatron crystals form, and space compresses further and further, making the line before it harder and harder to steer within until finally... a synchronized red flow of energy forms together along the composite cannon and lets a gigantic stream of red plasma energy rattle space with its sheer force, following his opponent. As for those tail-lasers, they are halted, as the supply of weaponized Metatron energy is localized to that one point. --Seven Years Ago-- It was a cold, snowy day. Flying an F-15 Eagle in this day and age is largely considered suicide. But that is what they did, and that is how they fought. "Cipher," a voice, friendly but rough, calls in on his radio, "I've heard stories about you. People say you never let your prey get away." The voice chuckles as they fly into the battlefield. An airspace high over the snow covered peaks of Ustio. This would have been their last stand. "No. You're Galm One now. I hope rumors were true- and, AWACS, you better have our pay ready for us when we get back!" That man is Solo Wing Pixy. His friend. His wingman. And... "We will survive." "We must survive." "This is the Round Table, dead men's words hold no meaning!" "War has only one rule!" SURVIVE --NOW-- "Who am I?" Cipher grits his teeth. He had a moment to rest, when it seemed like his foe had disappeared into shrapnel. But, no. It was not meant to be. Energy rushes and surges in a great tide of destruction all around his craft. The white wings are scorched black, and blue is seared away. But-- "I am--" The Metatron pulses all around him. A net, impossible to navigate, impossible to dodge, but. But--! "I am Cipher!!" The Falken seems to fall apart. Its components explode outward in an electromagnetic mess, individual components slipping through the network of energy before recombining and reconfiguring into a humanoid shape. "I am the Demon Lord!" Its thrusters kick in. The machine is falling apart. But it still endures. Its body is shattered, but it does not falter. Its retreat is suddenly reversed. It pushes back- back into the gaping maw of death. Into the gate of hell itself. It is a place Cipher is familiar with. Intimately familiar. It is his home. It is where he is most comfortable. Such is the fate of the Watchdog of Hell! Crosshairs lock onto the core of the Amenthes' building energy. A flash! The raw power of Metatron is unleashed, and the Falken shifts once more, into some strange hybrid of jet and man. Missiles erupt from its heart, thrusters ignite at its feet. The GERWALK circles about the pillar of Metatron energies, spiralling about it like- like-- --SEVEN YEARS AGO-- Excalibur. The sword of Belka. A laser superweapon capable of striking anywhere they could get a lock. And now, its every shot, its every assault, is focused on one plane. One white and blue F-15 Eagle. --NOW-- The memories of that moment rush through his mind like sepia images on film. The memories fuel his every motion. The gunpod opens fire, joining the missiles with a storm of harrowing gunfire. Then, it shifts again, into that distinctive aircraft. Its cockpit lifts from the airframe as if it were the mouth of a dragon pulling apart. A column of azure light erupts from within, burning and frothing out of the core of the aircraft. It twirls about the Metatron blast, daring it, testing it. And always, always firing. Never stopping, never resting. "Who am I?" Cipher growls. The Falken reaches its crimson foe- and transforms once more. The gunpod explodes with rattling gunfire as it somersaults about the phoenix-like machine. "I am Galm One." "I am the--" Sadly, Ascian is not a NewType. He's not even what one would concider an OldType. He's the opposite. He isn't a type at all. His mind has been closed off from those outside influences due to his childhood. But that doesn't mean he cannot feel the power that comes off of Cipher. He'd felt it throughout this entire battle, that kind of feeling like you are facing someone greater than you. Battle-instincts, that was it. That was all Ascian had to rely on, along with Duat, his artificial intelligence. As Cipher begins to spiral around the gigantic laser - the compressed space surrounding it unable to pull in and crush the ship, this realization definitely came to him. This was not an equal fight, and he had no place within this battle. That kind of realization hurts for someone like him, and of course he wants to stand up to this fear that is biting at his soul. The laserfire from the tails swoop more inward, trying to catch his opponent's missiles, taking out a small sum of them. But as his opponent gets closer at such high speeds, transforming with such grace... the choice between fight or flight is getting skewed towards flight. The laser suddenly cuts out, the arms seperating, and a rapid fire of lasers fills space, as Ascian tries to cut off the path of the missiles, before it turns around and speeds away. It weaves out, pulling up, letting a series of missiles impact onto themselves. Cipher however, follows Ascian's machine with near pinpoint precision. Kinetic ammo stabs into the SSA of the Amenthes, pieces of armor plating go flying. Parts of its wings are pierced, the particle field expanding quickly. Ascian's eyes are on the vid-windows helping him out, and has removed the one that indicates the Amenthes' status. He has enough of a bond with the Orbital Frame that he doesn't need it. He can feel its pain well enough. "Damnit... damnit..." he mutters, his grip on the controls tightening as he recalls this name. Cipher. Galm One. He'd met him a few times, and seen his skills. He recalled the name from a database he'd once lazily skimmed through. He was immediately reminded of Isa Reichert. "Damniiiit!" The Amenthes suddenly cuts its power, missiles collapse into it, forcing one of its arms to be torn off and send into space before exploding in a cloud of red. Radiation spikes for a moment, disrupting sensors and radar, and within that cloud of destructions and explosions, Ascian tries to get the Amenthes to reach out towards the incoming jet - its remaining arm sparking with a purple lightning that is meant to capture his opponent's unit and send a gulf of EMP and Electrical power through it to halt it. <"I will not fall!"> "You aren't bad," Cipher replies evenly. His earlier uncertainty has been replaced, supplanted by something... else. The voice of a man who is absolutely sure of the path he has taken in life. The voice of a man who has no shame for the things the has done, or the atrocities he has prevented or caused. The voice of a knight, of one of those great and noble and regal figures from ancient history. Indeed. A knight. A knight- of Ustio. Of the Round Table. Of Belka. "But-" time seems to slow down as he watches the Orbital Frame's arm lash up and out. Electricity arcs out of the limb onto the Falken's marred skin. But its gunpod rises again, and, from beneath, fires a single, speaker-like pod into the Amenthes' palm. "But you're trying too damn hard, kid." "And, you're too young." The pod reacts with the electromagnetic pulse. Its body opens like a lotus blooming in the spring. It unleashes a wave of jamming energies, spiralling out from its open maw like a gentle tide. "You're worrying about succeeding. You care too much about standing or falling or whatever you kids think about war these days. There's nothing glorious about it. Nothing righteous. The only thing that matters is survival." "Now get out of here." He grunts, "Your ship will be needing your support. I don't want to kill you here. I don't murder kids." The Falken turns, and begins rocketing away, "If you want to talk to me, you can consult the Trailer network. Now get going." <"Tssk. I know perfectly well that there is nothing glorious about war!"> Ascian replies. He hated when people assumed things about himself. The Amenthes crushes the ECM pod within its hand, using compressed space to detonate it safely, then raises a rifle back up to Cipher's Valkyrie. <"And I intend to survive. Not because I am just a soldier, but because I have things to live for."> People would be sad if he were to suddenly disappear, if he would fall - die at the hands of his enemy, or otherwise. <"Not to fall, means to survive."> He adds, <"And as long as I do not fall, as long as I survive, I can continue to fight." Ascian is annoyed by this opponent's statement of not wanting to murder kids. He was an adult, he was twenty-three years old, he was /not/ a kid. The rifle begins to load up, red light appearing at its tip. "Tssk." A signal suddenly comes in. Cipher had not lied. That A-LAWS vessel he'd called in was approaching the cruiser. And with the Amenthes this badly damaged, he could not split his attention between Cipher and a cruiser god-knows how far away from here. <"I'll best you one day, Garm One. To show that there is no such thing as trying 'too' hard."> And with that stated, the Amenthes turns about and speeds off, leaving a glow of red feathery embers in its wake. The rifle doesn't discharge, but continues to charge. If he was going to take down that A-LAWS battleship, he'd need all the charge he could gather. 'Too young,' Cipher sighs as he sails out of the debris field, to a small, waiting maintenance vessel on the outskirts of the zone. Despite being his late twenties. Yes, Cipher calls /EVERYONE/ who's younger than he is 'kid.' Or 'young.' Or whatever. Its a habit. A bad habit. But it's one he's not willing to give up. After all, someone has to look out for all of those kids- and those people who act like kids. Category:Logs Category:The Mars Campaign